


The Viscount's Muse

by manka



Series: How to Win a Losing Hand: One-Shots from the Love Story of Varric Tethras and Maria Cadash (Canon Dragon Age Setting) [17]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Book: Swords and Shields - Varric Tethras, Cadash and Varric continually trying to get kicked out of the Merchant's Guild, Cadash-Centric (Dragon Age), Dirty Talk, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarf Sex, Exhibitionism, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Shameless Smut, The Dwarven Merchant's Guild, Vaginal Sex, Varric Tethras Is So Done, Varric Tethras Writes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22896415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manka/pseuds/manka
Summary: Maria Cadash meant to proofread Varric's latest chapter of his newest serial. She finds something much more interesting stuffed in his desk drawer and decides to make him squirm publicly by reading his smut back to him at a Merchant's Guild Dinner.
Relationships: Female Cadash/Varric Tethras, Female Inquisitor/Varric Tethras
Series: How to Win a Losing Hand: One-Shots from the Love Story of Varric Tethras and Maria Cadash (Canon Dragon Age Setting) [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896694
Comments: 11
Kudos: 28





	The Viscount's Muse

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the lovely tuffypelly who you can find at [https://tuffypelly.tumblr.com.](https://tuffypelly.tumblr.com) Thank you for the idea and the beautiful sketch!

“Sod it all.” Maria mumbled under her breath, collapsing in Varric’s desk chair. It groaned as if it too thought the situation hopeless. 

“My lady?” The steward asked blandly, stopping his long recitation of matters needing her attention. 

“Sorry, keep going.” She waved him on, glaring at her husband’s desk. “The Comte de Launcet wants what again?” 

The steward continued his droning and Maria listened with only half an ear. Varric’s latest serial, The Murderous Magpie, had been more of a hit that anyone could have dreamed. His next Hard in Hightown, according to all the critics and a rabid fan base. Who couldn’t love a daring, rakish heroine from the streets framed for countless murders of mighty nobles by a shadowy faction with nefarious motives? 

It was transparently based on Bea Cadash of course, but beyond their little circle, nobody else had made the connection. Bea herself actually picked up a copy, read the whole damn thing, then wrote a real honest-to-goodness letter critiquing it in  _ detail _ . Maria herself usually got mere notes, laced with profanity, from Bea. A letter was nearly unheard of. 

So, of course, both Varric’s editor  _ and _ publisher were breathing down his damn neck for the next chapter. Because her husband, of course, didn’t have enough things spinning on his many plates. Ruling the city, managing  _ both _ their affairs with the guild, raising their daughter, making sure the little operation trying to track Solas down at the Gallows didn’t collapse while Maria vanished into the crossroads for months…

She’d been gone too long the last time she left. Poor Varric must have been drowning in it all. She swallowed the thought guiltily and brushed aside the neat stacks of papers on his desk impatiently. She promised she’d read it before he sent it off but she couldn’t sodding find it. She was about ready to push it to tomorrow when she seized upon a neat stack of Varric’s handwritten notes in a drawer.

She lifted them triumphantly and let her eyes scan the page. 

_ Mariele’s plump lips opened in greedy anticipation, silver eyes flashing dangerously beneath the black lace of her mask. Viktor already felt himself swelling to attention under her hungry, predatory gaze. She looked as if she’d swallow him whole. A lesser man would fall to her whims immediately…  _

Oh for the love of Andraste and all their bleeding ancestors, Varric must have finally given into Cassandra’s urging to write the next chapter of Swords and Shields. Set in Orlais, by the sound of it. Amused, Maria flipped to the next page. 

_ Her nimble fingers undid his trousers before he could even protest and the bard dropped to her knees in a rustle of pale silk. The moonlight in the garden turned her skin to pearl and marble, turned her hair to flickering crimson flame. She released his heavy manhood into the night, wrapping slender fingers around it and letting her pink tongue dart out over those tempting, kiss swollen lips.  _

_ Viktor couldn’t help himself. He dropped his hand to the bare shoulders exposed by the wispy gown, traced his thumb up the pale, white scars accenting her silken skin.  _

_ “Mariele…” He shuddered under her expert fingers. “Sweet Andraste…”  _

_ “Oh,” The beautiful creature purred. “But I’m so much sweeter.”  _

Crimson hair. Silver eyes. Scars climbing up her shoulder.  _ Mariele and Viktor. _ She wondered if she’d make it through the rest of the draft to find out Mariele only had one blighted arm after losing the other to freak elven magic shenanigans. 

“My lady?” The steward asked, taking in her sudden, frozen posture. “Is everything quite alright?” 

“Of course.” She answered mechanically. “Tell the Comte we can’t assist him at this time. Where  _ is _ the Viscount at the moment?”

“Meeting with the shipbuilders guild, my lady. Then luncheon with some merchants from Antiva, contract negotiations with the city of Markham, and then you’ve both accepted an invitation to a dinner hosted by one of the Merchant Guild’s…” 

_ Perfect _ . She’d been considering cheerfully murdering him, witnesses be damned, but a Merchant’s Guild dinner would be far, far worse than death. “We haven’t sent our regrets about not attending yet?” 

“I believe your plan was to feign an emergency.” The steward remarked wryly. “Fire in the kitchens was next in your rotation of excuses.” 

“We’ll save that for the next one. Please send a note to my husband stating we’ll be attending the guild dinner. I’ll meet him there.”

“Are… are you certain?” The steward asked, agog. Maria shuffled all the papers in the drawer into a neat stack and leaned back in Varric’s chair. She lifted her eyes to the steward and raised one eyebrow. 

“Did I stutter?” She asked sweetly, the tone dripping honey and venom. 

“No! No, ma’am.” He added, gulping nervously. 

“And can you ask the Hawkes if they’ll keep my daughter for the evening? I think we’ll be returning late.” Maria lifted the first paper to her eyes in clear dismissal and watched with a rather large amount of amusement as the steward scuttled away. 

Varric, Varric, Varric… she thought with no small degree of hidden fondness. If this had made it to his publisher, she’d shave his chest hair off herself, but deep down she knew it hadn’t. He’d been naughty, though. That wasn’t in doubt. 

He’d  _ missed _ her. So he’d written smutty literature starring  _ them _ . She could already tell it was absolutely awful. And  _ glorious _ . She couldn’t  _ wait _ to tell Cass. 

* * *

At first, Varric thought his wife had been kidnapped and the note sent under duress. After all, the only person who hated guild dinners as much as he did  _ had _ to be Maria. After he’d managed to ascertain that, yes, she did indeed order the steward to send it, he’d assumed it was a joke.

Until he went searching for her and saw his finery laid out neatly on the bedspread, a command if he ever saw one. After that, he  _ desperately _ tried to track her down, but as usual if Maria didn’t want to be found, nobody could find her. The only one who could, their precocious daughter, had already been shuffled to Hawke’s to spend the night. That, of course, meant Maria was indeed deadly serious about attending the guild dinner. 

With absolutely no other explanation offered, of course, because she was the most maddening woman he’d ever met. 

He took his time making it over to the quarter, showing up rather later than fashionable. Shocked, skeptical expressions latched onto him as soon as he entered the hall. Followed, immediately, by a bronto’s charge of dwarves in his direction. Complaints. Flattery. Threats. Varric reached for a glass of wine, immediately wished it was something stronger. He was going to absolutely murder Maria for putting him through this. Particularly since  _ she  _ was nowhere to be found. Clearly, she needed a distraction for something and decided this was the best one she could offer up. 

“The price of parchment is outrageous!” A dwarf growled, spittle catching at his beard as he worked himself into a proper frothing rage. “The tariffs at the harbor are bleeding us all dry. If you can’t allow free trade, I’ll…” 

“Surely the young mistress is getting a bit old to be unbetrothed.” A woman with elaborate, heavy braids sighed. “It isn’t good for a girl’s reputation to…” 

Their Sunshine was barely five and  _ not _ for sale regardless. For the love of…

“There you are.” 

Oh thank fucking Andraste. Maria’s good arm slipped into the crook of his easily, her lips curved up in wicked, sinful amusement. “Having fun?” She asked, far too sweetly. 

He shot her a pained glare even as her mere presence caused everyone to wisely take one step back. Despite the elegant gown and the pretty braids in her hair, Maria’s every move screamed lethal grace. No guild seat or crown could ever quite make her reputable in the eyes of the very worst of Kirkwall. 

And tonight, apparently, Maria had no plans for appearing even  _ slightly _ respectable. Her gown was nearly the same color as her hair, blazing ruby red among the dull, drab colors of the guild. It dipped scandalously low, displaying her cleavage with delicious perfection. The thin straps fell off her slender shoulders in wisps of chiffon. The silk bodice curved and clung to her wicked figure like a glove. 

Varric’s mouth went dry as he took her in and he nearly forgot how annoyed he was.  _ Nearly _ . 

He dropped his lips to her ear and bit back the smug satsifaction at the nearly imperceptible shiver his breath sent through her. “This is  _ not _ my idea of a good time, Princess.” 

She laughed, low and soft, the ripples sending heat right into his belly. “Come dance with me then.” She challenged, tossing her head back proudly. 

Anything to get away from this crowd of vultures, besides, he never could tell her no. “As my lady demands.” He smoothly slipped his other arm around her waist, admiring the way the silk warmed with the heat of her skin underneath it. The crowd around them parted with muttered, muted disappointment pierced with disapproving glares. 

The ballroom floor itself was full of nothing but awkward, gawking teenagers. After all, dancing was for the young. And humans, of course. Certainly not for respected members of the guild and their stolid, unimpressed wives. The ones Maria outshone without any effort. 

The youths scattered before them, ducklings before swans. Varric took Maria’s hand and stepped back, bowed over it, then placed a searing kiss on the back of her palm. Because he wanted to, (dammit he never could resist that red dress) he pressed another even more desperate one on her fingertips. 

Her lips tipped up, amused in spite of herself, and then she slipped into the space between his arms like she was meant to be there, like it was made only for her. Her hand rested lightly within his and she pressed her delectable breasts against the silk of his tunic. “There’s a disappointing number of buttons done up on this shirt, Varric.” She whined quietly. 

“Hey, you picked it. Thought you were trying to tell me to show some decorum.”

“Never.” She sighed happily. “How can I possibly flaunt you when you’re hiding your best assets?” 

He chuckled, squeezed her fingers within his and dropped his voice low. “For fucks sake, Maria, why are we here?” 

“We were invited.” She replied, gray eyes widening innocently in her face. “Ages ago, remember?” 

“I tend to block out those invitations. Makes them easier to ignore.” Varric’s fingers traced the stiff boning of the gown at the flare of her waist. “You’re not going native on me, are you?” 

“Dressed like this?” Maria asked, laughing as Varric spun her under his arm. He caught her securely and she pressed even more firmly against him, a predatory smile dancing on her lips. “The Guild wouldn’t even know what to do with me.” 

They never did. Fools, every single one of them. “You were awfully late arriving. Suspiciously late.” He pointed out.

“I was on time, actually.” She purred, delighted with herself. “You were the late one, serah. I took advantage of your appearance to extricate myself from a rather lascivious Master Dace and explore all the hidden little nooks and crannies in the garden.”

He groaned and dropped his face into the coiled braids framing her face. She smelled like honey, cloves, cinnamon. A unique and beguiling scent that clung to her no matter what. “So you sacrificed me to snoop around for something.” 

“In a manner of speaking.” She agreed, nuzzling into his neck, her breath warm against his jaw. “I read something very interesting today and this was the only way to get to the bottom of it while ensuring the guilty party squirmed a little.” 

“Nobody’s listening, Princess.” He chuckled and jabbed his chin at the empty dance floor and the disapproving crowd miles away. “Don’t spare the salacious details. I demand to be entertained if I’ve got to be shoved into this bucket of rats.” 

Maria hummed lightly under her breath, her smile wicked and sharp as diamonds out of the corner of his eye. The music stopped, but he tugged her more tightly to his form and waited for the next song to strum up. As soon as it, Maria lifted her lips to his ear. “I’ll try to remember what I read. You’ll have to make allowances if it’s not verbatim. It got me rather… hot under the collar.” 

Was it his imagination, or was there a slight, breathy undertone to that statement? It of course could mean that she’d been furious by whatever she’d discovered, some nasty little guild secret. Maria’s temper meant there was a pretty good chance he’d be needing to have blood cleaned up off of some surface… 

But when she purred the words, he pictured a rather different kind of heat. One well suited to the red dress she wore. 

“I was in the study upstairs.” Maria recounted quietly, little puffs of air against his overheated skin. “Looking for that next chapter of your serial, the one that definitely isn’t based on my sister. I never did find it.” 

“That’s because it’s on the desk in the library.” He supplied less than helpfully. 

“Good to know.” She laughed. “Instead… well, I’ll just tell you what I found at your desk.” 

He made a mental note that he needed to remind the messengers, again, that guild correspondence went right into the rubbish bin. “All ears, Princess.” 

“Let me think…” Maria trailed off, her thumb lightly tracing his palm as they glided smoothly, thoughtlessly, together. Easily in tune with each other, just the way they always were. “It started…”

He waited, eager and amused at her drawing it out. It had to be damn good if she was taking such care to tell the story. 

His amusement vanished almost instantly as the words began to pour from her lips, hot and filthy in her sultry, smoky voice. 

“Mariele had many a man in her time as a bard, surely. A woman of her exquisite beauty didn’t lack for lovers on cold, lonely nights. But Viktor was no fumbling knight. It had been years since he left his sinful, boisterous exploits behind him, but his deft, practiced fingers remembered exactly how to turn a beautiful woman into a puddle of pure, uncomplicated need…” 

Shit. Shit, shit,  _ shit _ . 

“Forget the steps, Varric?” His wife teased dangerously as Varric very nearly stumbled to a stop in the middle of their dance. She took over leading, eyes sparkling with danger. “Your sinful, boisterous exploits a thing of the past?” 

He was a dead man walking. She’d brought him here to torture him before she shot him. Probably with his own crossbow. “I can explain.” He protested weakly. 

“I’m not done.” Maria’s imperious voice brooked no argument. “I forget the next part. But I clearly remember this bit…” 

He groaned, tried to beg her to stop, but she didn’t heed him at all. “Viktor nearly forgot what it felt like to have a nubile young lady on her knees, but Mariele could hardly be called a lady, particularly with his steel between her perfect, plump lips. ‘Is this what you wanted?’ Viktor asked, twisting his fingers in the crimson braids she wore. The only answer was Mariele’s pleased, throaty moan…” 

Maria twitched her hips to the side threateningly and Varric pressed hard up against her to hide the effect her words were having on his own cock. His filth spilling from her lips was… sweet Maker, he hadn’t known he could want her more than he usually did. “Maria…” 

“My favorite part went…” Maria paused and brought her lips closer to his ear until he could feel their feather light touch as she whispered. “Viktor ripped the delicate silk covering her glistening mound, too crazed by her teasing grin and wicked silver eyes to do anything but plunge his sword into her snug sheathe and…” 

His breath whooshed out, leaving him dizzy. His hands dug into the silk covering her hips and he struggled to think past the liquid arousal running through his blood. “How dead am I?” He asked weakly. He could feel her wicked grin against his neck. 

“What happened to no kissing and telling, Varric?” She asked lightly. “Does Cassandra really need to know about the birthmark on my…” 

“Fuck, it wasn’t for…” Varric couldn’t think. Her perfume was too heady, her eyes sparking, mouth curled up dangerously just the way he loved best, and he couldn’t stop thinking about his cock in her mouth, her warm wet heat… 

“It was just for you?” Maria’s words sent shivers up his spine and she untangled her hand from his to twist her fingers through his loose hair. “Your dirty little secret when I’m gone? Dreaming up what Mariele and Viktor get up to in elaborate Orlesian gardens…” 

“Yes.” He confessed as she rolled shamelessly against him. He could barely hear the music over the pure, screeching need thrumming in his veins. He missed her, Maker he missed her when she was gone. All he could do was spill out the things he wanted to do to her while he waited for her to come back and warm his heart, share their bed, send his entire life into chaos and…

She pulled away and beamed into his face, flushing prettily pink under her freckles. She traced her fingers from his neck, over his jaw, down his chest and hummed thoughtfully under her breath while her eyes sparkled with mirth and… 

Lust. An inferno of roaring lust. 

Maybe she’d kill him, but it would be the best kind of death. 

She twisted her fingers with his again and turned, hiding his bulging cock strategically with her skirts while she dragged him off the wooden dance floor. Varric chuckled breathlessly as he followed her right through the crowd. Several guild members attempted to approach, but thought better of it as the Viscount and his wife slipped into the evening air of the gardens. He couldn’t see her face, but he’d seen Maria march into enough battles to know exactly what it looked like. 

He wouldn’t get in her damn way either when she was a woman with one thing on her mind. 

Thank the damn Maker that one thing was him. 

She shoved him into a dark nook, one she’d clearly scoped out for this purpose alone. It was hidden by a tall hedge and the soaring walls of the mansion behind them. As soon as the shadows enveloped them, Varric reached for her like a man starving, pressed her hard against the stones looming above them. “Minx.” He growled against her lips. “You’re a menace, Maria. You brought me here just to…” 

She brought her one arm up to her generous bosom and pulled something from the bodice, something dark and…

Lace. A lace mask just like the one in his filthy smut. Varric’s cock doubled in size and he reached out with unsteady fingers to pluck it from hers. Her grin was as smug and self-satisfied as a cat who’d eaten a canary, but his imagination was already on fire. “Turn around, baby.” He directed softly. 

“Is Viktor rather bossy, then?” She asked, but she turned and he gently fit the mask over her eyes, tying it with a simple knot over her braids. He dropped his hand to gently run his knuckles down the line of her neck, lower over the dip of her spine. He dropped his mouth to kiss down her right shoulder, tracing the scars that were left there, the remaining marks of the anchor that nearly…

Nearly, he reminded himself. But she survived, she was  _ here _ , and she was warm, willing, pliant under his large hands when they settled over her waist. She tipped her head to the side to look over her shoulder at him, silver eyes shining in the moonlight, framed to the best effect by the black lace  _ just  _ like he knew they would be. 

She fluttered her lashes, the perfect imitation of an Orlesian coquette, and smoothly turned, dropping to her knees in one sinuous motion. His stomach knotted itself as her fingers reached to undo his laces with one efficient tug. 

“And what information am I trying to seduce out of you, my lord?” She asked in an almost flawless Orlesian accent, ruined only by the hint of her reckless laugh under the surface. “I couldn’t quite glean…”

“I’ve got to admit, Princess.” He saw stars, fought to keep his voice even, as her nimble fingers circled his cock. “The plot was secondary.” 

“Oh really?” She stroked him with her one hand, nothing but a light, teasing touch. “You know, some people read for the plot and skip these steamy scenes.” 

Those people must not have a damn pulse, but before he could retort, her lips opened and the sheer anticipation made him groan, thoughts fleeing as his mind was erased by warm, wet, sweet,  _ sweet  _ bliss and…

“Shit.” He swore, one hand steadying himself on the stone above her, the other twisting in her elaborate braids. He watched her mouth stretch around his girth obscenely, her eyes flicking from the task at hand to meet his and hold them as she worked to take his cock into her mouth inch by torturously slow inch. 

The sight alone was almost enough to make him cum. He ran his thumb over her cheek, voice unsteady, praise falling from it effortlessly. “You’re so beautiful. I love my cock in your mouth, baby. Sweet Andraste, Maria…” 

She laughed, a little bubble of it that brought something warm and bright to life in his chest. She pulled back, cock slipping from her swollen lips, eyes wicked and teasing. “She may be sweet.” She answered pertly. “But I’m sweeter.” 

His cheesy line from his smutty story. He laughed as well, but it tapered off into another long moan as she resumed her work. She slid him almost to the hilt inside her mouth, fingers wrapping around the last inch or so she couldn’t quite fit, slicking him with her saliva as she began to bob her head. 

“Maker I miss this when you’re away.” He continued, watching with worshipful zeal as she licked and sucked. His voice trembled with lust and awe. “It’s all I can think about at night. All I want. It isn’t enough to imagine your lips around me, isn’t enough to think of warm and wet your sweet cunt gets…”

She moaned around his length and the vibrations had him seeing stars. He curled his hand against the stone into a fist and watched her, the great rise and fall of her chest, her shining eyes on his framed by the sexy black lace. She sucked eagerly and his heart thumped unsteadily, liquid heat pooling in his groin. He tugged gently at her braids. “I want you. I want all of you, Maria baby please…” 

The wicked glint in her eyes resurfaced and she hummed around his length. Varric’s hips bucked in spite of himself and he tried, valiantly, to fight the urge to do it again and again until he spilled down her throat. She was ruthlessly driving him insane, playing into his fantasies, his desires, and he couldn’t…

She squirmed, shifting on her knees, and Varric knew she had to be as affected as he was, knew she had to be as needy and desperate. Perhaps more, in fact, since she’d been planning this little encounter all damn day without his knowledge. If Varric thought  _ this _ would happen every time they came to one of these dinners… 

“Did you touch yourself?” He asked in a low growl. “Reading all that smut, knowing how bad I wanted you, what I wanted to do to you? How hot under the collar  _ did _ it make you, Princess?” 

He could just picture her on their bed, legs spread, ass in the air and fingers dancing between her legs while she brought herself off to  _ his _ words. 

She pulled off of him with an obscene plop, her lips shimmering with saliva, his cock shining the same way. She smirked up at him, that crooked little smile that belonged only to him. “Maybe a little.” 

Too far gone to be gentle, he grabbed her by the upper arms and hauled her to her feet, shoving her roughly back against the hard stone. Her fingers grabbed for the fasteners of his tunic, undoing them, sending at least one of them snapping, a button falling to the ground as she whimpered, his mouth devouring hers. She nipped his lip in sweet revenge and he began to pull up her skirts, rucking them around her hips and lifting her by her spread thighs. 

“Yes.” She keened, nails gouging his shoulder as she arched her back, pressing the creamy tops of her breasts to his greedy mouth. He wanted them out of the bodice, wanted her naked and in their bed begging for him as a fair turnabout for this little trick, but first…

First, he was going to fuck her  _ thoroughly _ against this wall. 

His fingers felt the sopping wet lace of her smalls and tore through them in a moment, the shredded fabric falling in pieces to the grass. She laughed again, but he captured it with his mouth and her arm twisted around his neck, holding him to her as he thrust smoothly inside her. 

Her cunt clenched down on him, muscles rippling with his sudden entrance, but her thighs curved around his waist, scrabbling for purchase, the hard heels of her boots urging him on as they pressed against the small of his back. 

“Tease.” He growled, moving from her lips to nip lightly at her exposed throat as he started a bruising pace, making sure to thrust right into the spot he knew she loved so much. “Wanton little…” 

“You love it.” She bit the lobe of his ear. “And you deserve it. Writing that terrible, amazing smutty…” 

One particularly brutal thrust made her words drop away into a pure, animal moan of need, one that changed into his name as he tightened his grip on her ass. “Strong criticism from someone who wanted to reenact it.” 

She giggled, caught out, pressing an almost sugary kiss to his jaw. “I had a thing for Viktor.” 

Be still his heart. _This_ _woman_. This amazing, wonderful, insane woman of his. He captured her lips with his own again, tenderly this time, even as his furious pace continued and Maria shuddered in his arms, muscles tightening, body going rigid. 

“Wait.” He muttered against her lips, liquid heat pooling in his spine. “Wait, baby. Wait for me, please Maria…” 

“Varric…” She half sobbed his name in desperation, but that was all it took. His movements became stiff, wooden, his cock swelling inside her. This tipped her over the edge and she half wailed her approval, milking him of his seed and burying her head into his shoulders, trembling against him. He thrust deep one final time and pressed his lips against her temple, mind going hazy at the edges as he spent inside her welcoming body. 

He lowered Maria back to the ground, both of them leaning against each other, too drained to stand. The garden was quiet. No sound but their ragged breathing. Varric wondered exactly how many of the Merchant’s Guild illustrious members had heard them. At least, he thought smugly, it had been a fine performance. 

And since they’d made a brief appearance at an event, they were free and clear of the guild for  _ months _ .

“Do you think they’ll finally kick us both out?” Maria asked quietly with a satisfied giggle. 

Varric huffed weakly in return. “Doubtful. They’d never risk making us so damn happy. Poor Sunshine’s gonna inherit both those seats and spend the rest of her days cursing us both.” 

Varric bent to retrieve the scraps of lace on the ground, but she stopped him. “Don’t.” She ordered, eyes shimmering with mischief. “Leave them. I want to hear about their reaction tomorrow.” 

He laughed and settled on doing his trousers back up while she leaned against him, unsteady as a drunk. He kissed her forehead sweetly and wrapped his arm around her waist. 

“I unlocked the gate back here.” Maria snuggled into his shoulder. “And I told the kitchen staff to leave the side entrance open.” 

“You think of everything.” Varric mumurred, smoothing her gown back over her hips. 

“Not everything.” Maria smirked in the moonlight, rightfully smug. “This was, after all, your idea.” 

Varric softened, pulling her tightly to his side as they wandered down the pristine garden paths in the darkness. “But you, as always, are my muse.”

**Author's Note:**

> Join me to talk shit about the Merchant's Guild at: <https://cartadwarfwithaheartofgold.tumblr.com/>


End file.
